Kudos to HBO's 'The Wire'

HBO's "The Wire" doesn't often delve into animal-related topics. But on February 24th, The Wire drew from scholarly work that has reported links between violence against animals and violence against people. (According one study, men who abuse animals are five times more likely than men of similar age, race and economic status who have not abused animals to commit violence against humans. And it's becoming increasingly well-known that there is a correlation between childhood acts of cruelty to animals and extreme violence in adulthood.) In the 58th episode of The Wire, Kenard, a recurring (minor) character, is seen dousing a cat in a fire accelerant. He and a group of children his own age (all seemingly under 12) pour the fluid all over the cat's body. Though the rest of the children scatter when well-known street thug Omar walks by, Kenard continues to struggle with the lighter to complete the gorey act. Ultimately, I'm not sure about the fate of the cat (though I've read on a fan site that you can see the cat running away in the background of a later scene). Kenard, however, continues his streak of violence by following Omar into a store and shooting him in the back of the head.

The culture depicted in The Wire is a violent one, and certainly Kenard has learned his behavior from the adults around him (including Omar himself, and even the prevailing law enforcement, on occasion.) But kudos to The Wire for succinctly, harshly and artfully exposing the connections between animal abuse and violence against people. Many viewers were disappointed by Omar's death — not because he died, but how he died. Omar, a violent, ruthless killer, had become a fan favorite, and the audience was expecting a show-down of epic proportions between Omar and his nemesis, Marlow. But personally, I think Omar's death was perfect. What better way to show the cycle of violence, the effects of city-wide corruption, and the depth of brutality than to have Baltimore's most notorious killer be murdered in cold blood by a child? And there was no better way to foreshadow the true capabilities of Kenard's burgeoning tendencies than by having him display them on a cat.

Treat it like a novel

The writing on The Wire is brilliant, the acting is inspired and the direction is impeccable. A quick search on the web reveals the passion that most reviewers have for this celebrated project.

However, the plot is dense with characters and activity, and much of the splendor of the work is both the eventual entanglement of so many threads and, especially, the carefully crafted manner that earlier events later resonate in unexpected twists. To view the sixty episodes casually and periodically is to lose grasp of much of the wit.

The best way to ingest this rich drama is at a steady pace, with full engagement. As it has not yet been released I cannot say what additions in commentary and documentary might be included in this complete box, but having each episode handy for rapid rotation is not a bad thing. As for myself, having watched the final episode this evening, I fear my current comfortable satiation will be replaced tomorrow by the cold realization that my television will have lost much of it's recent attraction.

Don't forget why people avoid "The Wire"

On the basis of previous reviews, you'd never know that this series was on the verge of being cancelled at least twice, that it never made satisfactory numbers for HBO, or that it was almost universally ignored by award committees despite it's fervid following.

There's a number of things for the faint-hearted or first time viewers to know about The Wire before you jump in:

1. There is no denouement, no simple, clear resolution at the end of every episode ala CSI, NCIS, or any other typical police drama. On the contrary, The Wire is the epitome of the "slow build", it takes episodes to get started, much less finished. As in life, there are rarely any easy, clear resolutions at the end. Unlike the black and white worlds of network tv, The Wire is all gray.

2. There is not a simple, single story line. Rather The Wire is characterized by complex, multiple story arcs that can extend over more than one season. It demands (and rewards) concentration, rather than escape. Redemption and revenge are possible, but not in one episode or one season. The Wire requires patience.

3. There are no clear cut heroes and villains (this is the anti-"Heroes" tv show.) There are only human beings, all flawed. McNulty, a hero, is an alcoholic who cheats on his wife. Even Marlowe, the apparently soulless villain, grapples with very human issues of loyalty and pride.

4. Though there are great, fully realized characters (almost too many for escapist viewers to follow), and though to some degree Baltimore, the city, is a central character, the abiding presences in The Wire are Baltimore's institutions and organizations: courts, city government, educational system, labor unions, police, newspapers. Even gangs are seen as just another organization. Unlike any other show I've ever seen, The Wire demonstrates how institutions are built from a complex web of relationships and motivations and seem to have an existence independent of those who participate in them. And it does so in such a subtle way that it's not automatically obvious. It doesn't appear to be about institutions, but it is. That's subtlety.

That's only a start. There's more that makes The Wire a challenge for viewers: it's non-linearity (it's more like a spiral), it's bleak view of cities and urban institutions; the seeming randomness of so many events that impact lives, etc., etc., etc.

All that said, The Wire, for those willing to make the investment of time and attention, is a transcendent, moving experience. However downbeat it's subject matter, it is, in the end, a true work of art, a masterwork, and as such ultimately enobling and uplifting. And just a thrill to watch.

The Wire re-up: season three, episode six – just a gangster, I suppose ...

We've hinted a couple of times on this blog about a special project we've all been working on. We can now announce that this episode-by-episode blog, as well as all the Guardian's interviews with the cast and features on the show, are going to be collected into a book to be published in this autumn. Blogposts for all five seasons will feature – as well as many, many of your comments, which have made this blog the great forum it is. It's your book too.

And with that in mind – we need a title. We have bounced around a few ideas, but we want to hear from you. What do you think the Guardian's Wire book should be called? Answers on a post below please.

This is the episode – written by David Simon and Rafael Alvarez, and packed with memorable scenes – where the contrast between Stringer Bell's approach to the drug business and Avon Barksdale's begins to come to a head. While kingpin Avon was in prison, Stringer, his second in command, gradually reorganised their business along free-market lines, attempting to abandon the traditional model of gaining and holding territory from other dealers using brutal violence. Instead he gathered Baltimore's major dealers into a "co-op"; they would all club together to buy wholesale drugs from the same source, and share their territory instead of fighting over it. He ordered his low-level dealers, confused that rivals were now being allowed to sell on their turf, to abandon their customary intimidation and bloodshed and compete for customers using mainstream tactics: undercutting prices, for example, or throwing in freebies.

His theory was that having a high-quality product would make the Barksdale gang more money than controlling a specific area of territory. His approach had the added advantage of deterring police attention, since the police were principally interested in those drug dealers who were ordering or carrying out murders.

Meanwhile, Bell invested more and more of the organisation's money into property, aiming to amass so much that he and Barksdale could eventually abandon drug dealing altogether and become legitimate businessmen.

Yet Avon was always ambivalent about this move into the mainstream. Here we see his lack of interest as the two tour a building site and are told of problem after insurmountable problem. Avon's normal approach to problem-solving – aggressively ordering someone to fix it: "Y'all fucked up, so y'all supposed to take the hit, right?" – doesn't work; bored and irritated, he quickly leaves.

Later (see video) Barksdale and Bell discuss how to handle young turk Marlo Stanfield, who has taken over some of their territory. Avon wants to go to war, but Stringer tells him: "We past that run-and-gun shit, man … We find us a package and we ain't got to see nothing but bank. Nothing but cash. No corners, no territory. Nothing … I mean who gives a fuck who's standing on what corner if we taking that shit off the top, putting that shit to good use, making that shit work for us. We can run more than corners, B. Period. We could do like Little Willie, man, back in the day, with all that number money, and run this goddamn city."

We have discussed here how Stringer seems less sympathetic and more self-deluded on second viewing, but this is a powerful, seductive speech, and it almost looks like his message has got through. But then Avon looks up. "I ain't no suit-wearing businessman like you," he tells String. "I'm just a gangster, I suppose … And I want my corners."

Later we see state senator Clay Davis running rings around Stringer; this is the side of supposedly legitimate business Bell is unable to handle. Avon's eventual verdict that "they saw your ghetto ass coming" seems accurate. While his ideas for improving the drug game almost always have great merit, Stringer finds it difficult to negotiate the labyrinthine procedures of local government and the housing industry he seeks to join, and his ignorance is taken advantage of, particularly by Davis. So he is unable to take the final step into legal business that he desires – even as his past actions in the drug world begin to catch up with him.

There are some great performances here both from Idris Elba, who plays Stringer, and Wood Harris (Avon). Sitting in the back of the car as Barksdale criticises his running of the operation, Elba suggests the difficulties he faces getting his message across solely through his breathing and by pensively rubbing his face.

But what is Avon meant to be thinking in the scene where he plays with his gun and stares into space as Stringer is talking? Is he musing over how Bell has let him down? How their business is deteriorating around him? How "the game" is changing? Is he considering killing Stringer? When he comes out of his reverie, his mumbled questions to Bell - "What you saying man? What's up?" - seem curiously tender. I found the meaning of the scene unclear.

This week we see the first appearance of Snoop, Marlo's hitwoman. She stays uncharacteristically silent, but Chris Partlow, her partner, seems a little out of character here. Marlo asks him if he's ready to go to war on Avon, and Chris replies with a big handshake, a hug, and, "It's ready like yesterday, dog."